


I'll Be the One

by Furious_Winter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 07:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2419610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Furious_Winter/pseuds/Furious_Winter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After she goes on a rant about soulmates, Arya’s friends guilt her into downloading an app that allegedly counts down to the exact moment a person will meet their soulmate. Her mind gets the best of her and chaos ensues…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The App

**Author's Note:**

> This is for ladyilliya on Tumblr. 
> 
> Prompt: soulmates

Anxiously glancing between the clock on the wall and her droning professor, Arya chewed at her lip and bounced her leg, positioned for a hasty exit as soon as Dr. Greyjoy finished her lecture. Normally, Arya was willing to stay over and discuss the lesson with Dr. Greyjoy and a few impassioned others, but she had something else on her mind today - something that might earn her a few rolls of the eyes if those particular impassioned classmates learned the truth of it. 

With gnawing despair, Arya recalled the day Weasel had weaseled her way under her skin and convinced her to download the stupid, ridiculous app. “I just think it’s stupid and ridiculous,” she’d told Willow and Weasel between sips of her mimosa. “There’s no way an app can tell you when you’re going to meet your soulmate.”

“Maybe not,” Weasel shrugged, “but I mean, you’ll probably never meet anyone anyway.” She looked to Arya with a playful smile. “You can’t even bring yourself to _kiss_ a guy, never mind dating, falling in love,” she grinned at Willow and said teasingly, “making babies.”

Arya sat stone-faced and blinked at the two of them. “Do you even really believe in soulmates? The whole concept is about as aromantic and destructive to relationships as it gets.” She began her rant, “I mean, if everyone’s waiting for that _one someone_ then they’re always going to be questioning if the person they’re currently with is really _the one_ or not. People throw away what could be a great thing for them and their partner on the notion that there’s maybe something, someone better. Nobody’s perfect and nobody’s a perfect fit for anyone else.” 

Weasel sighed, “Arya…”

She took a sip of her drink and gestured with her hand as another thought struck her. “And you’re truly delusional if you’re going to entertain the idea that it’s all been decided by fate or the stars or God or whatever nonsense long before you even had a choice who you’re going to be or who you’re going to love. It sets up this unrealistic expectation of every romantic partner you encounter that he’s gonna have a magical penis that solves all your problems or her tits will be made of happiness and her vagina-”

Willow gasped at that. “Arya! It’s not-”

Never one to shy away from properly and thoroughly informing others of how she felt about one topic or another, she held up a finger to stop them. “And that’s another thing entirely! You know, sex is wonderful and great and all but if it’s all you’ve got going on, you’re both totally fucked.” She added with a smile, “Pun intended. And then if the sex _isn’t_ great but they’re amazing in each and every other way, you’re still never really going to be happy. Your mind is going to wander as much as your eyes and, like I said, you’re always going to be on the lookout for the total package, that one person that’s everything you need them to be, clinging pathetically to the idiotic belief that someone can complete you.” She sat back in her seat, satisfied with herself. “Everyone would be a lot happier if they just realized that they’re already complete and they don’t need anyone else to make them feel whole.”

Weasel looked away and twirled at her hair. “God, Arya. It’s just a fucking app.”

She hesitated, sensing that she could’ve gone overboard this time. She’d need to be careful, gentle with her words. “A fucking _stupid_ app.”

“Whatever.” Willow sipped at her mimosa. “It’s meant to be fun.” 

Weasel grinned at her wryly. “Yeah, but we understand if you’re too afraid to meet Prince Charming.” She stifled a giggle, “After all, you’re clearly not a handful and he’d probably just find you boring.”

“I’m not afraid of meeting Prince Charming, Weasel. I just…” Arya searched for the words. 

“Be a sport and download it, Arya.” Weasel refilled her glass. “I’m supposed to meet mine next year and Willow should meet hers shortly after. Yes, it’s nonsense but it’s still fun to think about.”

So, Arya guiltily downloaded the app and found that she was due to meet her soulmate on March 14th of the next year, not long after Willow. Today was most inconveniently now March 14th and although Willow and Weasel’s dates had both come and gone with no luck whatsoever, Arya found some small, nagging, curious part of herself that still wondered if she might meet someone special. 

She knew it was stupid, knew it was illogical and a waste of time, but she couldn’t ignore the piece of her heart that most certainly did want to someday meet that special someone with a magic penis. _And who knows? Maybe this app somehow holds the key to it all._ Perhaps the ticking clock was counting down to her making acquaintance with an amazing person that would change her life, make her want to be better, to be worthy, to be loved or, at the least, disappointed and eternally obsessed with cats. 

Thus, she’d decided to ensure that she was absolutely alone once the timer reached zero at exactly 4:16 p.m. _That means I’ve got a quarter of an hour to make it from Intro to Feminist Theory to my dorm room._ And in theory it was, like most theoretical things, simple. If she hurried, she could make it to her dorm in ten minutes easily. Today, however, Dr. Greyjoy was going over. The clock struck four and Arya kept her calm, but with each passing minute she grew more and more worried, glancing every ten seconds or so to the app on her phone and the mindfuck that might ensue if it reached zero while she was in the company of any man, woman, or even a bad book with poorly developed characters to which she inexplicably felt some sort of attachment. 

Mercifully, Dr. Greyjoy wrapped her lecture at precisely 4:06 and Arya dashed for the door like a Baptist family trying to beat the Methodists to Shoney’s after a Sunday morning sermon. Arya ran, deftly avoiding students in the hallway and bursting out the doors. She cut across the lawn and, in a moment of fleeting genius, headed towards the spot of woods where she and others had razed a nature trail the previous semester, her pack bouncing uncomfortably on her back. Upon reaching the cover of the trail, she put an arm across her breasts to quell them and cursed herself for being too lazy to put on a bra that morning. 

Her shortcut through the trees saved her time and as she rounded the last bend she felt certain she could make it to her dorm with minutes to spare, but she now found herself at the band practice field. She stopped and weighed her options, knowing the whole while that each second she spent in hesitation brought her closer to what could be a lifetime of doubt, self-loathing and regret. _And cats,_ she reminded herself in quiet consolation. The final obstacle between Arya and her dorm, her enemies chirped before her with menacing predictability.

Pfft.  
Pfft.  
Pfft.  
Pfft.  
Pfft.  
Pfft.  
Pfft.  
Pfft.  
_PFFT-PFFT-PFFT-PFFT-PFFT-PFFT-PFFT-PFFT._  
Pfft.  
Pfft.  
Pfft.  
Pfft. 

And so on. With a groan, Arya looked down at her very white, very close-fitting Debate Club t-shirt. _Why the fuck do they run the sprinklers in the middle of the afternoon?_ It was now or never, she reasoned, and while it was tempting to run directly across the field and potentially wet her shirt for all to see her modest B cups, she elected instead to take the long way around over the eight-foot chain-link fence and through the parking lot. 

Arriving at the fence in a blur, she took off her backpack and heaved it over, leaping and climbing to the top before it hit the ground. She spun over and landed gracefully, grabbing her pack and tearing across the parking lot to her dorm on the other side. Arya reached to the right pocket of her jeans shorts to check the time and became enveloped in sheer panic as she realized her phone wasn’t there. 

_Shit! Shit! Shit!_ She kept running as she patted frantically at her other pockets, feeling queasy as it dawned on her that it must have come out somewhere. The idea teased her. _If I’m not near it when it goes off, I’ll never know…_ While she found this thought to be invariably compelling, even more compelling was the fear that someone might find her phone and-

 _God fucking dammit!_ She turned around, retracing her steps and searching wildly. “‘Put a passcode on your phone.’ Willow says.” Arya berated herself aloud, breathless. “‘You never know, you could lose it and someone could post your nude photos online.’ she says.” _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ For years, Arya had owned cell phones and, although a few had been destroyed, she’d never lost one. Still, she hadn’t dreamed of taking nude selfies until one particular drunken night a month ago. She hadn’t sent them to anyone and didn’t intend to, but narcissism won her over. She’d taken dozens, constantly finding flaws and deleting most immediately, but she had, with a sense of self-conscious, calculated pride, decided to keep a few. 

Her life could surely be ruined in many ways, but at the moment she couldn’t think of anything worse than topless photos of herself floating around campus. Desperately, she threw herself against the fence where she’d jumped over and spied her phone laying in the grass on the other side. She wasted no time whatsoever, abandoning her backpack and scaling the fence once again, vaulting over it, picking up her phone and placing it in her mouth as she climbed back over. She grabbed her pack and slung it across her shoulder, checking her phone for the time. 

_Four minutes left._ She grinned to herself, knowing she could still make it. Arya kept her phone tightly in her hand as she raced across the parking lot. She threw open the door to her dorm, turned to race up the stairs and bounded down the hallway, fumbling with her keys as she reached her room and clumsily unlocked the door. Whipping herself around, she forcefully pressed against it with her back and shut it, sinking down to the floor with a relieved sigh. Instinctively, she brought her phone up to her face. 

She gleefully and exhaustedly announced to her and Weasel’s dorm room, “Two minutes to spare.” Smiling, she leaned her head against the door and caught her breath. Amidst the lingering scents of burned water, Ramen noodles, piles of clothes that may-or-may-not be clean and what was certainly not marijuana, her nose caught a whiff of the most decadent, delectable, delicious delicacy known to college students. 

Suddenly starving, she nearly screamed, _“Pizza!”_ Her eyes jerked to the card/kitchen/dining room table. Standing to get a better look and make sure she wasn’t hallucinating, she approached the innocuous box and the veritable mouthgasm that lay within it. The poorly printed fat kid with his mouth open, about to devour a giant slice of pizza dripping with cheese and toppings was emblazoned on the cardboard beneath the words “Hot Pie’s Pizzeria.” 

It all made sense now. “Weasel,” Arya smirked, “you fucking bitch.” It was a joke, to be sure. Briefly gazing at the slightly ajar door to Weasel’s room, she recalled that she had a class at 4 p.m. and therefore couldn’t be around for Arya’s moment of crisis. It appeared Weasel had made sure that Arya would have her favorite thing, her soulmate if anything deserved to be, hot and ready for her when she returned to her home away from home. Arya set her phone on the table and slid her backpack from her shoulder, plopping into a chair and prying open the box to slowly, seductively reveal its wondrous contents. Her voice cracked profusely as she murmured, “Mmmmm…” upon seeing the Extra-Large Deluxe Five-Cheese Supreme Pizza decked to the brim with gratuitous amounts of pepperoni, sausage, bacon, ham, green and red and jalapeño peppers, onions, mushrooms, olives, chives and underneath it all the garlic butter bread smothered with Hot Pie’s signature tomato sauce. 

Carefully, she reached for a piece and drew it to her face, the cheese reluctantly pulling apart in thick, sumptuous strands. Arya took a large, eager bite and threw her head back as she chewed. “Ohhh, my God!” she exclaimed through her mouthful, her eyes closed and rolling to the back of her head. “It’s better than sex.”

“Is it?” a sinewy voice asked just as her phone blasted a song on the table.

Startled and mid-swallow, Arya choked as she sat forward, simultaneously dropping her slice of pizza back into the box and slapping at her phone in a primal attempt at silencing the cursed app’s blaring, malevolent notification of impending doom. Blinking furiously, she swallowed down the rest and turned in her seat to the very much unwelcome guest in Weasel’s doorway. “Who,” she swallowed once more for good measure, “the fuck are you?” 

As her eyes reached him, her mind comprehended half a dozen different things in the fraction of a second. She recalled Weasel telling her about a cute guy in one of her classes and how he was coming over to study sometime. She remembered Weasel making no recent mention whatsoever of the app or any plans to sabotage her life of singularity. She noticed how the muscles of the unwelcome guest’s arms filled out and strained against the sleeves of his shirt, his tousled, thick and thoughtlessly styled black hair and eyes so blue they seemed almost unreal. _Fuck my life,_ she opined, both grateful that he wasn’t repulsive and demoralized for the same reason. 

He squinted at her and his reply sounded more like a question than an answer. “Gendry.” He grinned uneasily and pointed a thumb to Weasel’s door, “I came over to study with Weasel.”

Distracted momentarily by his smile, Arya absent-mindedly replied, “Oh. Okay.”

“And who are you?” he asked, gesturing as if he had to draw it out of her.

“Arya. I’m Weasel’s roommate.” she replied thoughtlessly. He nodded and looked to the side, visibly humored. Running on automatic, she continued, “I haven’t seen you on campus before.”

“I just transferred here this semester.” Gendry leaned against the doorframe. “Are you enjoying my pizza?”

She blinked herself back to reality. _“Your_ pizza?”

“Yeah.” He pushed off from the door and crossed to the table, sitting down. “Weasel said she was hungry when she left for class, so I decided to surprise her.”

“Oh!” Arya now felt horrible and made an attempt at apologizing. “I’m sorry! I thought… I thought that Weasel had...”

Laughing, Gendry waved it off as he reached into the box for a slice of his own. “It’s fine. Help yourself.” Arya eyed him warily, glancing to her phone on the table and then back to his infectious grin, watching as he took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “You know,” like Arya, he apparently talked with his mouth full from time to time, “this is really good.” Still keeping an eye on him, she picked up her own piece and took a timid bite. “But,” he looked to her, “I can’t say that it’s better than sex.”

Feeling herself blush, she again choked down her food. “Well,” she cleared her throat, “in my experience, guys our age aren’t always too concerned with anyone but themselves when it comes to,” she motioned with her hand, “that.”

“It’s not hard to believe.” He nodded seriously. “You’re what, eighteen?”

“Nineteen.” she corrected him, wondering what exactly the question implied about his own age.

“Okay.” He took another bite. “Give them a few years. Or maybe a few decades in some cases.”

She grew skeptical. “And what makes you an expert?”

“Weasel and I are studying it.” He took another bite. 

“You’re studying how adolescent males don’t give a shit as long as they get off?” she asked, unconvinced. “What the hell kind of class are you taking?”

“Human Sexuality.” Gendry finished chewing and swallowed. 

“Right.” Dismissing how unsettled she felt by his response, she now remembered Weasel telling her this and also recalled that it was the class she shared with her crush. _It’s… this has got be him._ She chose her words wisely, wanting to gain as much information as possible without throwing her friend under the bus. She spoke slowly and nonchalantly, “Weasel mentioned to me that there was a guy in that class she-”

His groan cut her off. “Yeah.” Gendry finished his slice. “Lommy.”

“Lommy what?” She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.

“She likes Lommy.” He reached for another piece of pizza.

Thoroughly perplexed, she failed to hide her confusion. “What the fuck’s a Lommy?”

Gendry laughed, turning his pizza slice in his hands as if unable to determine the best point of attack. “Lommy, umm…” he looked pained when he was thinking, “Lommy… something. I don’t know his last name.” He put his elbows on the table, leaning in closer as he spoke, “It’s sort of like those romantic comedies where the characters both like each other. And you know they’re gonna get together in the end, but for the whole movie they’re just sort of bumbling around, too nervous to make anything happen. After a while you just get fed up and you’re like, ‘For fuck’s sake! Just climb on top of each other and get it over with already.’” He rolled his eyes and took a bite. “It’s kind of like that.”

This news made her happy both for Weasel in that she had a guy she liked who also liked her, and for her own sake in that- _Fuck._ Arya tried to mitigate her panic. _No! Why did I have to meet this guy today of all days?_ She didn’t know Gendry, was at the least mildly attracted to him, and though she struggled to rationalize that the stupid soulmate app was indeed bullshit, some infantile part of her refused to discontinue thinking like her sister. _He doesn’t have a magic penis._ She repeated, _He doesn’t have a magic penis._ If nothing else, she was sure about that. _It’s probably small. Given how wonderfully beefed he is, he’s likely taken steroids and it shrunk. Or maybe he hates cats._ Her blood pressure decreased as she thought of more reasons to dismiss him. _I bet he hates dogs. If he doesn’t like Nymeria it could never work. There’s just no way some ridiculous app can tell me-_

“Some ridiculous app that told her she’d meet her soulmate on a certain day at a specific time.” Gendry rearranged a jalapeño. “And she already likes this guy, so we’re sitting in class last month and she’d been freaking out about it to me for weeks when our professor decides to put us in pairs and,” Gendry shook his head, “they get paired up, her app goes off and gets her in trouble, she goes off the deep end…” Gendry digressed with a mouthful. 

“Weasel didn’t tell me about that.” Arya was stunned, almost frightened. “It’s not like her to-“

“Hey!” Weasel entered without warning. “We got out of class early, so _OH MY GOD YOU GOT PIZZA!”_ A seamless interruption, Weasel flew to the table. “I _love_ Hot Pie’s.”

“You and every other student at King’s College.” Gendry laughed. “It might as well be a prerequisite.”

Weasel glared at him playfully. “You’re just jealous because you’re old.”

“How old are you, exactly?” Arya queried, her interests far from sated.

Gendry sighed, hanging his head. “Old.”

“You’re what, twenty?” Arya asked. “Twenty-one?”

In a somewhat shamed voice, he answered, “Twenty-four.”

“And you’re still in college!?” This Gendry fellow was definitely down for the count. “Are you stupid or something?”

He seemed mildly hurt by the question and averted her gaze. “After high school, I took a year off and worked for my foster dad.” 

_Way to go, Arya._ A wave of guilt washed over her. _He was an orphan…_

“A year turned into three, and then one day he sat me down and told me I couldn’t live with him anymore.” Gendry lightly cleared his throat. “He said I needed to go back to school and that an anonymous donor had offered to pay my tuition, so I moved to the Stormlands and went to East Baratheon. It’s just a two year school, so I finished my core and,” he shrugged, “here I am.”

“Gendry,” Weasel frowned, sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder, “I didn’t know you were adopted.”

“Well, I wasn’t.” he chuckled. “That’s why I had a foster parent.”

Her appetite now completely dissipated, Arya forced down her last bite and extended a hand to shake his. “Welcome to King’s College, Gendry.” She managed a smile. “Like you, my brother Jon is adop-“ She stopped herself. “I mean, both his parents are… he’s an orph-“ Arya bit her lip and wondered what her chances were of sinking beneath the table without being noticed. “I just mean that it’s cool, you know.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Of course it’s not _cool_ that you’re an orphan, but… just that it’s okay.” _What the fuck are you doing, Arya?_ “And I mean, _obviously_ it’s okay. It’s nothing to be ashamed of or… Like, I don’t think any less of you because…” She sighed. “I’m just gonna stop now.”

Breaking out into a wide grin at her embarrassment, he turned to Weasel and asked, “Is she always like this?”

“No.” Weasel eyed her suspiciously. “No, she’s not. Arya,” she brushed back her hair and crossed her arms, a half smile appearing from the icy depths of her heart facsimile, “isn’t today the day you’re supposed to meet your soulmate?”

“I… have no idea.” Arya replied innocently. “I went ahead and deleted the app after you and Willow didn’t meet anyone.” Deciding to turn the tables, she changed the subject. “But it’s interesting that you bring it up. Gendry was just telling me all about Lommy.” 

Weasel turned three shades of pink. “I- he- you- Lommy, um-“ She shot Gendry a look of derision. “You _told_ her?”

He put up his hands, leaning back in his chair. “She’s your roommate! I thought she already knew.”

 _“Fuck!”_ Weasel put her face in her hands and her voice began to crack, “Just don’t say anything about it, Arya, okay? Don’t say anything at all.”

 _Is she crying?_ After a brief moment, Arya realized that she was. This was very much unlike Weasel. The only time Arya had ever seen her cry was years ago in grade school when she’d found out _Firefly_ hadn’t been renewed for a second season. _And at my dad’s funeral,_ she remembered, shoving the memory from her head. “Weasel, what’s wrong?” she asked. 

“Just shut up.” Weasel sniffled, her face still buried. “I didn’t tell you about it because I knew you’d only make me feel stupid. Just like with everything else, you’d judge me and just go on and on about it until I either agreed with you or lied and agreed with you just so you’d stop.”

 _“Weasel…”_ She was shocked. It was true, she was very opinionated and not afraid to show it, but she’d never dreamed her friends would keep their feelings to themselves because they thought she might judge them. Arya got up and rounded the table, embracing her in a firm, tight hug. “I’m sorry.” She gave her a light kiss on the head. “I love you and I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m judging you.” She drew away and smiled at her friend, wiping a tear from Weasel’s cheek. “And I mean, yes. That app is fucking bullshit and whoever created it is sitting back, raking in the profits from the adverts while its users stare mindlessly at their phones, counting down the minutes until-“ Weasel’s bottom lip began to quiver and Arya changed her tone. “But Gendry told me about how you liked this guy before the app had anything to do with it. And I’m happy for you, Weasel. I’m happy that you met him and that he makes _you_ happy, soulmate apps be damned.”

Blinking away her tears, Weasel grinned. “Thank you, Arya. That means a lot to me.”

Gendry interjected, “She’s a liar.” They both looked to him, simultaneously accused. He gestured to Arya, grinning. “You’re a liar.”

Arya stood up, planting her feet and cocking her head. _“Excuse_ you?”

“You said you deleted the app.” 

“I…” Arya stammered, “I did.”

“No,” he shook his head, his pearly whites shining, “you didn’t. When your phone went off not ten minutes ago it was playing that Backstreet Boys song ‘I’ll Be the One’ or whatever it’s called. It’s the same song that went off in class with Weasel and Lommy.” The room was silent. “Oh, come on. You can’t convince me that anyone has ever made that their ringtone.”

There was no way out, short of murdering them both. _Oh my God,_ she suddenly realized, _he knew the entire time._ Weasel turned slowly to Arya, a smile so wide on her face that it rivaled Cheshire Cat’s. She leaned towards Arya and embellished her condescending, decimating words, _“Awwwwww!_ Arya met her _soulmate!”_

Her face felt so hot it could’ve melted and Arya crossed to her backpack, picked it up and headed directly for her room. “Just shut up about it, Weasel. I think we can agree to that two-way street.” 

Weasel’s voice chimed after her, “Let’s go online and pick out your wedding dress! Oh, and what will you name your children!?” She reached her room and just before slamming the door behind her, Weasel got in one last bit of torment. “Do you think he has a magic penis?” 


	2. The Pizzeria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Weasel make a return to college. Also, I fucking hate chapter summaries. This is kind of just a transitional chapter anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally freaking finished chapter 2... obviously. 
> 
> A huge, huge thanks to JustAGirl24 for beta reading this for me!

Weasel thumbed through Arya’s iTunes library, unable to make a decision. Long trips in a vehicle were bad enough, but it had been this way for five excruciating minutes now and although Arya was growing frustrated, she couldn’t quite blame her indecisive friend. At times, trying to decide what to listen to was like deciding where to eat with a group of people who first indicate that they don’t care and then systematically have a problem with each suggested fast food establishment. Finally, she grew weary of the engine’s hum. “Just put it on random and skip everything you don’t like.” She was forced to eat her words as Weasel pressed play and they began listening to the first second or two of each song that carried through the speakers.

“Screw it.” Weasel tossed the iPod into the center console and leaned her head against the window as she complained, “Your taste in music sucks.”

Arya gripped the wheel.

“I don’t understand what’s wrong with you. Would it kill you to download Imagine Dragons, Of Mice and Men, Passenger or, you know, something _good?”_

 _Very likely, yes._ “I’ve got 30 Seconds to Mars and My Chemical Romance. We used to listen to them all the time in high school.”

“Ugh,” Weasel scoffed, “I can’t stand them anymore.”

 _Thank God,_ Arya breathed a silent sigh of relief. They still had two hours of stuffy, cramped, uncomfortable, air-conditioned, spacious, adjustable-seating vehicular torment ahead of them and Arya couldn’t fathom killing the time by occasionally pretending the other hadn’t passed gas. “Next time we travel, let’s wait until we’re done traveling before we get Taco Bell.” she suggested.

“Why?” Weasel asked. “Are you feeling nauseous?”

 _“Nauseated.”_ Arya corrected her. “‘Are you nauseated?’ And no, I’m not.”

“Nauseated.” Weasel waved her off as she picked up her phone. “Whatever.” She snidely asked, “Are you afraid you’ll be gassy if you run into Gendry?”

“Weasel.” Perhaps she should’ve downloaded Imagine Dragons, “I don’t care about Gendry. He’s obnoxious, arrogant, stubborn, stupid--” although most of them weren’t true at all, the adjectives flowed from her like urine from a drunken freshman--“self-obsessed, boring, one-dimensional, misogynistic...” She sped up to pass a station wagon. “Need I go on?”

“He’s not _that_ obnoxious.” Weasel countered.

“Really, that’s all you’ve got?” she huffed, exasperated. “No wonder Lommy says you never challenge him.”

Weasel crossed her arms. “Look, it’s not my fault you’re too proud to admit that you like him. Don’t take your sexual frustration out on me.” With nothing else filling the silence, the engine sang its quiet song, and as much as Arya wanted to explain for the hundredth time how she did _not,_ in fact, like Gendry, she waited instead for Weasel’s insecurities to kick in. “Did Lommy really say that?” Her attempt at distracting Weasel from the subject of Gendry now a resounding success in mere seconds, Arya didn’t answer. _“When_ did he say that? Was he talking about the time he brought up _Battlestar Galactica_ and I was saying that Starbuck and Apollo were meant to be together? Because, I mean, Lommy’s seen the entire series and I was only finishing the first season and…”

She drowned Weasel out with her thoughts. _Lommy, Lommy, Lommy._ Arya rolled her eyes. _I swear, if this turns into another ‘do-you-think-he-really-likes-me’ conversation, I’m going to drive into a tree._

“But do you think he really likes me?” Weasel turned to her. “I mean, _really_ likes me?”

Dissimilar from dozens of times Weasel had asked this particular question before, Arya’s reassuring answer was obligatory. “Yeah. I mean, he drove all the way from King’s Landing three times this summer just to see you.”

Weasel looked away, unconvinced. “Because sometimes I think that he doesn’t. Like, for instance, the last time he came to visit we were watching _The Fault In Our Stars_ and…”

Despite her best attempts at paying attention to Weasel’s oratory on her boyfriend’s knack for checking his phone during movies she liked, and especially her favorite scenes, Arya’s mind drifted; and surely, her drifting mind wasn’t any fault of her own, never mind the stars. She’d been sitting innocently enough at the card/kitchen/dining room table in their dorm last semester, reading and completely enthralled with her book when Weasel had entered with Gendry.

“Hey!” Weasel greeted her as she closed the door behind them. “Gendry’s come over to study again.” 

Arya politely glared at them.

“Hi.” Gendry smiled as he lifted a hand and waved.

Arya returned her eyes to her book and did her best to ignore them. She’d grown accustomed to the way he’d sing to her as he’d pass, _“I’ll be the one,”_ and then in falsetto, _“I’ll be the ooo-one,”_ bobbing his head and grinning as if he hadn’t even _begun_ to comprehend the degree to which she loathed being reminded of that petulant moment in time-- that grievously, mercilessly shameful moment that was certainly not serendipitous and absolutely coincidental.

As they passed by on their way to Weasel’s room, Gendry seemed remarkably and admirably capable of abstaining from musical torture. “What are you reading?” he mildly asked.

“Heller.” she shortly replied, not wanting to pique his interests. _“Catch-22.”_

“Oh, okay.” He nodded. “Like the figure of speech?”

Arya grimaced and kept her eyes on the book. “It’s where the term ‘catch-22’ comes from, actually.”

He nodded again. “That’s cool. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, right?”

“Umm… sort of.” She noticed Weasel roll her eyes at them before going into her room, apparently offended that Arya was occupying her study buddy. “It probably more accurately refers to a situation where there is no positive outcome,” Arya briefly elaborated, “or at least no possible outcome that’s desirable.”

Gendry raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Isn’t that basically ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t?’”

“Well, in the book,” Arya now felt somewhat like those ghastly individuals one would watch a show or movie with and would then say, ‘In the books they did such and such and…’, or, ‘It didn’t happen that way in the books at all…’, or even, ‘If you read the books, you’ll understand why I’m more justified in feeling this way about this certain character as opposed to your skewed, flawed version that the writers/director/producers have given you in this demonstrably inferior screen adaptation that is in no way adequately representative of the original author’s immaculate portrayal of events that may well be objectively interpreted so long as they do not contradict my superior assessment of art,’ but she continued anyway, “‘catch-22’ refers to a fictional military rule that says fighter pilots will be grounded if they’re not mentally fit to fly. So, if a pilot isn’t mentally stable they just need to go to the doctor at their base and let them know that they can’t fly because they’re mentally unstable.”

“Okay.” Gendry shrugged. “What’s the catch, then?”

Arya smiled. “That _is_ the catch. The very act of going to the doctor to let them know that they’re mentally unstable is _in itself_ indicative of mental stability, which means that they’re mentally stable enough to keep flying and the doctor can’t ground them.”

He frowned. “What happens if they’re just batshit crazy?”

“Well, most of them are. I mean, they’ve got to be just a _little_ crazy to keep flying mission after mission if they could die at any time, right?” She waited for him to respond, but he remained there, brow furrowed, as he thought it over. She slow-walked him, “And they’ve got to voluntarily go to the doctor in order to be grounded, so…”

A sly smile crept on his face. “No matter what they do, they’ll have to keep flying.”

“Right.” She beamed.

“So basically, ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t.’” He smiled like an idiot.

Arya groaned, “Yeah, but I mean, if you really think about it, it’s not quite-”

The mention of his name effortlessly removed Arya from her reminiscing. “Gendry just texted me. He says he wants to take us out to Hot Pie’s tonight.” She could hear Weasel’s evil grin in her voice. “Do you want to go?”

“Weasel, we don’t have time to go out for dinner.” She wielded her sword of reason, “It’s going to take us most of the day to get settled. First, we’ve got to get in line to pick up our keys from the RA while they deal with every parent of every freshman that has a thousand questions about the rules and their precious child living in a co-ed dorm as if it’s a brothel rather than a dormitory. Then we’ve got to bring in all of our stuff, set everything up, obtain and validate our internet passwords and you _know_ how long that takes.” She probably could’ve gone on for another half hour if given the opportunity. “I’ve got to get my parking decal, and we have to renew our student I.D.s and activate them for our lunch plans, set up our campus mailboxes and-”

“Look, it was _your_ idea to come early during Freshman Orientation so that we’d have an extra week to get all of that sorted out.” Weasel allowed herself a dramatic beat. “A _week,_ Arya. There’s no way we could get all of that done today if we tried. Anyway, I think we can afford to go out for the night and have a little fun.”

“‘Go out _for the night?_ Are you crazy?” Obviously, Weasel was out of her mind. No sane sophomore would dare jeopardize a quiet first night settling into her dorm room by traipsing out into the dark, terrifying night of a college town and its debauched nocturnal offerings. _Not on the_ first _night,_ Arya thought. 

“Lommy’s coming and I already told him we’d be there.” Weasel pleaded, “Please, Arya?”

She scoffed. “You’re a big girl, Weasel. I’m sure you can go meet Lommy and Gendry all on your own.”

“But I need a winggirl!” Her excitement was far from contagious. “What if things start getting good and I need a moment in the ladies’ room with my bestie to, you know, _conspire?”_

Arya furrowed her brow. “What would you need to conspire about?”

Weasel fidgeted. “Like, me and Lommy have been dating for almost six months now and… and we haven’t even had sex yet. If Gendry’s there, I might need you to distract him so that Lommy and I can go off and uhh...” She giggled the most irritating giggle Arya had ever heard. “You know, have some ‘alone’ time.”

“Wait,” Arya raised a hand to stop her, “you told me that you two had sex the last time he came down, right after you watched _The Fault In Our Stars._ You said that he started crying at the end and that you decided to console him by giving him mouth-to-mouth. Then one thing led to another and-”

“Hmm, yeah.” Weasel cleared her throat. “I lied because I didn’t want you to think it was weird that we hadn’t had sex.” 

Arya frowned. “Weasel, _you’re_ the one that always went on and on about it.” She couldn’t understand how Weasel could’ve thought for a moment that she might judge her for something so intimate, delicate, and personal. “If you two aren’t ready, that’s fine. Despite what our sex-crazed culture and smutty fan fiction might tell you, there’s nothing wrong with waiting. Just because you’ve shared your feelings with each other doesn’t mean you have to immediately jump on his dick.”

“But that’s the problem! I do want to jump on his dick!” With a groan, she threw her head back against the headrest. _“Please,_ Arya! Just do me this one solid.”

“Nope.” Arya shook her head, determined. “Absolutely not.”

***

“Dammit, I forgot to get a knife.” Weasel frowned as they sat down in their booth. Hot Pie’s Pizzeria was beginning to get crowded, and Arya could understand how Weasel might want to avoid an uncomfortable social moment at the counter after they’d already ordered, standing there off to the side of the line and just kind of making constant eye contact with the cashier until she had her attention and could ask, ‘Can I get a knife, please?’

Arya blinked at her. “We’re eating fucking pizza. What do you need a knife for?”

Weasel smiled as she checked the time on her phone. “The sexual tension. Gendry should be here any moment now.”

“Good. Okay.” Arya nodded, expressionless. “Go get yourself a knife then. And get me one while you’re at it.”

“Why do _you_ need a knife?” Weasel eyed her with playful suspicion.

Before Arya could answer, she heard the voice of a demon. “Hey, what’s up?” She turned her head to see him, standing there looking all friendly and stupid and innocent. 

“Hey, Gendry!” Weasel waved and then stood up as Lommy appeared beside him. “Lommy!” She rushed over and gave her boyfriend a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

As the two of them said their sappy I’ve-missed-you’s, Gendry looked to Arya. “Hey, you.”

Arya forced a grin as she leaned back and turned her head up just to look at him. “Hi.” _God, he’s so tall. I bet he bangs his head on shit all the time. Maybe that’s why he’s such a dumbass._

He simply stood there for a moment as they awkwardly looked at one another amidst the sounds of Lommy and Weasel kissing and cooing and all the other abhorrent things puppy love entailed, and then motioned to the seat in the booth next to her. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Oh!” _Shit,_ she thought as she realized she’d been imagining what it might be like to do to Gendry what Weasel was doing to Lommy. “Yeah. Sure.” She scooted over and he sat down beside her, smelling lightly of cologne, body wash and something else she couldn’t quite place. 

Lommy turned to them. “I’ve got a present for Weasel out in the car. We’ll be right back, okay?”

Arya glanced at Weasel, who was pink-faced and nearly shaking with excitement. 

“Alright,” Gendry nodded, “we’ll be here when you get back.” The two of them trotted off, and Gendry looked to Arya. “So, um, how was your summer?”

“It was good.” She cleared her throat, trying not to stare at his large, strong hands that she was for some reason finding intrinsically captivating. “And yours?”

“Eh.” He shrugged and leaned back, stretching. “It was alright. I got a part-time job for some extra spending money and pretty much just watched Netflix whenever I was off.” Finished with his stretch, he exhaled and rested his indubitably fascinating hands on the table. “But, I’m ready for the new semester.”

“Yeah, totally.” Arya nodded and decidedly stared at the back of the seat across from them. “Me too.” The small talk now finished, she began to absent-mindedly chew at her lip while picking a bit of dirt from beneath one of her nails.

After a moment, Gendry broke the silence. “Have you two ordered already?”

“Mmhmm.” Arya looked back at him. “Two Extra-Large Deluxe Five-Cheese Supremes and two pitchers.”

“Only two?” Gendry cocked his head.

“Yeah.” Arya helplessly smiled in confusion. “Two pizzas should be more than enough.”

“But only two pitchers?” Gendry smiled back at her. “What are we, high schoolers?”

She laughed. “Well, we can always get another.” 

He stared into her eyes and she couldn’t help but feel herself blush as she looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. Perhaps sensing her discomfort, he became serious. “You know, Willow and I have been talking a lot over the summer. And I just feel like I needed to tell you that I don’t think we’re soulmates or anything like that. I don’t even believe in soulmates and, I mean, Willow’s told me how you don’t really like me-”

“No.” Arya cut him off, “I think you’re alright, it’s just…” She took a breath. “It really did piss me off how you’d sing that fucking song whenever you saw me. I mean, I know you must’ve thought it was cute or whatever, but-”

“It’s fine, I totally understand.” He shook his head. “And I’m sorry for making it weird. I just figured that if I made light of the situation that you might someday consider me friend material. And then you didn’t, and it bugged me, so... “ Gendry gave a short laugh. “There it is. I just don’t want things to be weird.”

“Things aren’t weird.” she lied reassuringly.

“Good.” He nodded. “But, I do have one thing I need to ask you.”

She nearly panicked, fearing what it might be. _Oh no, what if he’s going to ask me about-_

He broke into a stupid grin, “What’s the deal with the ‘magic penis?’”

Arya felt like she might die. 

“Hey, you two!” Willow saved the day and then promptly ruined it. “Are you on a date or is it okay if I sit?”

“No, it’s fine!” Gendry replied as he scooted closer to Arya to make room. “You can sit next to me. Lommy and Weasel are on the other side and… sitting there would put you in the ‘splash zone.’”

“The splash zone?” Willow asked as she sat down. 

Arya leaned forward to inform her, “Saliva and other bodily fluids.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Ew.”

“We’re back!” Lommy announced, beaming, as he and Weasel claimed their seats. 

Weasel looked somewhat disappointed, but greeted their friend anyway. “Hi, Willow! I didn’t know you were in town yet or we would’ve invited you along!”

“It’s cool. I saw on Gendry’s Facebook status that you guys were here, and I figured I’d drop by.” She smiled. “I just sort of decided at the last minute to come early because, you know, there’s so much I’ve got to take care of! I’ve got to pick up my keys from the RA while they deal with every parent of every freshman that has a thousand questions about the rules and their precious child living in a co-ed dorm as if it’s a brothel rather than a dormitory. Then I’ve got to bring in all of my stuff, set everything up, obtain and validate my internet password and you _know_ how long that takes…” 

Arya looked to Weasel, grinning proudly. Weasel just shook her head and mumbled, “I need new friends.”

Gendry changed the topic of conversation. “So Weasel, what was your present?”

Weasel blinked herself into faux-sincerity. “Oh, right.” She held up her left hand, forcing a smile and talking through gritted teeth. “Lommy got us matching promise rings.”

“That’s right!” He turned red with pride and put an arm around her, pulling her in for a kiss on the cheek. “To show that we’re not ashamed to remain pure until the day we get married!”

Arya could barely suppress the laughter stewing in her chest. “Oh, my God!” She made a terrible attempt at sounding genuine as she reached out a hand and put it on Weasel’s. “That is _SO. PRECIOUS._ Weasel, you’re so incredibly fortunate to have a boyfriend that values your purity!”

“Right.” Weasel nodded. “I am. So, so fortunate.”

Hot Pie arrived at the table with their pitchers of beer, a waitress in tow behind him with their pizzas. “Hey, you guys! Good to see you back in town!” They greeted him and engaged in a bit of small talk as they received their food, and he even offered them a third pitcher “on the house” if they needed one. “Yeah, just let Bella know.” He winked at her as she rolled her eyes and walked off. “Damn.” He shook his head longingly as she walked away. “That’s a supreme pizza if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Do what?” Willow asked him, confused. “A supreme pizza?”

“Yeah. A supreme pizza. Basically a nine.”

“A nine?” Arya queried. “Is that, like, a rating system?”

“Yup.” Hot Pie nodded eagerly. “I don’t usually work Mondays, but she’s a new hire and I came in just to, you know, be around her.”

“What’s a ten?” Gendry asked through a mouthful of pizza.

“Stuffed crust.” Hot Pie grinned.

“Why is stuffed crust a ten?” Willow crossed her arms, seemingly offended. “A supreme pizza could have a stuffed crust.”

“Right, but you can get a supreme pizza almost everywhere.” Hot Pie shrugged. “Stuffed crust is a rarity to be treasured.”

“Fine, then what am I?” Willow appeared to be testing him. 

_Does she like him?_ Arya wondered.

“Um.” The color drained from his face. “Like, I dunno, probably, maybe, buffalo chicken?”

 _“A buffalo chicken pizza!?”_ Willow sat forward. “You think that trampy waitress is-” She reclined back in her seat, looking away from him. “Whatever.”

Now looking guilty, Hot Pie hung his head. “I dunno, Willow, I mean, I never really thought about it.”

Arya grimaced. _That’s probably the worst thing he could’ve said_

Willow shot him a glare. “You never even _thought_ about it?”

“You’re still better than Arya.” Hot Pie tried to recover. “She’s just a _frozen_ pizza.”

Arya couldn’t help but immediately forgive the insult. She was finding the exchange quite hilarious and didn’t really care what he thought about her looks anyway. 

Gendry turned to her. “I actually really like frozen pizza.”

 _Of course you do._ She smirked at him. 

Willow grabbed a pitcher and filled her glass. “We’ll take that third pitcher now, Hot Pie.”

“Right. Okay.” Hot Pie slowly walked off, looking like a kid that dropped his ice cream cone.

Weasel looked almost accusatory as the reality of the situation hit her. “You _like_ him.”

“No,” Willow scoffed, “I don’t.”

“Yes, you do!” She smiled now. “And, oh my god, you were here when your soulmate app went off!” Weasel became excited now, her mouth agape. “You’d forgotten all about it and then bam, we were eating here and he’d just brought us our drinks and walked off when-”

“Shut up!” Willow pouted. “I don’t like him.”

Weasel chuckled, “No, you don’t like him… you LOV-”

“SHUT UP!” With that, Willow put an end to it. 

The conversation soon switched to the upcoming semester. They discussed which classes they were taking, their awful professors, their hopes and fears and dreams and everything else that wouldn’t matter anymore after the semester was over. Hot Pie had, on occasion, come by to check on them. During each visit, Willow would huff and puff and blow his metaphorical house down as he pitifully tried to mitigate the damage he’d caused earlier. 

And Gendry… _Ugh,_ Arya metaphorically built up her brick house of hatred, _he’s so fucking personable and friendly and likeable._ She felt like this was all very out of character for him, like there was some alternate universe somewhere in which he was _not_ personable, _not_ friendly and certainly _not_ likeable. Despite her suspicions of something akin to canon divergence, she couldn’t help but laugh at his jokes, return his smiles, pander quite pathetically for his approval via sound arguments and reason, and wonder if his penis was indeed of a magical nature. 

“Let’s go somewhere and… I dunno, play cards or something,” Willow suggested as Hot Pie collected their plates. 

“Ooh!” Hot Pie’s eyes lit up. “Have you guys ever played Cards Against Humanity?”

Willow sneered, “What makes you think we’d invite you?”

“Hot Pie,” Weasel offered, “would you like to hang out with us and play Cards Against Humanity?”

Lommy blinked, perplexed. “What’s Cards Against Humanity?”

“Yeah, sure.” Hot Pie almost bounced, delighted in spite of Willow’s remark. “I mean, I didn’t schedule myself to work tonight anyway, so-”

Gendry explained to Lommy, “It’s a game for horrible people.”

“No.” Arya interjected. “Weasel, we need to get back to our dorm and finish unpacking. And I didn’t get a chance to validate my internet password, so if there’s a problem with it I’ll be stuck with using data on my phone until it gets resolved. And…”

Her protest did her little good. They decided that Gendry’s apartment was probably the best place to meet up, and after figuring out who would drive whom Arya found herself in her car with a very upset Willow, complaining about Hot Pie the entire ride over. She tried to listen to her friend and calm her down, giving little bits of advice here and there between rants, but she couldn’t quite discern the nature of the feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was either fear or excitement, to be sure. Either way, she suspected that this was a bad idea and she couldn’t quite say why. Regardless, it absolutely had nothing to do at all with magic penises.


End file.
